


Helplessness Is All I Know

by orphan_account



Category: Shameless (US)
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-03-31
Updated: 2015-03-31
Packaged: 2018-03-20 14:51:54
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,463
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3654456
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/orphan_account/pseuds/orphan_account
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>They haven’t been driving for more than five minutes when Fiona realizes this isn’t the route back. </p><p>“Mickey, where are you going?”</p><p>“I don’t know.” He drags his hand across his lower lip, flexes his fingers before placing them back on the steering wheel. “Where should we go?”</p>
            </blockquote>





	Helplessness Is All I Know

**Author's Note:**

> Missing scene from 5x11.

“Fuck!” Mickey says as he lets his phone fall into his lap. He’s called Ian at least a dozen times to no avail.

Fiona stares ahead, recognizing Mickey’s defeat. She sinks down slightly in her seat, nuzzles further into her scarf, puts her numb fingers between her legs. She’s fairly certain she can see her breath and her nose feels like an ice cube but Mickey is sweating bullets and if there was ever a time to agitate him, now is not it.

They haven’t been driving for more than five minutes when Fiona realizes this isn’t the route back.

“Mickey, where are you going?”

“I don’t know.” He drags his hand across his lower lip, flexes his fingers before placing them back on the steering wheel. “Where should we go?”

She throws a glance back at Lip and he raises his eyebrows, unphased. He gets it. He’s not surprised. Mickey’s freaking out and it’s kind of heartbreaking but it’s also predictable and tired. Mickey has a hope that Monica killed in her kids a long time ago.

“Home.” She doesn’t mean for it to sound harsh but it slides off her tongue that way. She doesn’t know what to do about Ian, though she would never fully admit that out loud, not in front of Debbie and Liam and maybe not even in front of Mickey. But it’s true, she doesn’t know what to do, and she’s been hitting that wall too often lately. She wants to go home and hope the solution magically appears at her front door. And if that doesn’t work, well, she’ll cross that bridge when she gets to it.

“What do you mean?” He looks at her like she just suggested they drive off a cliff Thelma and Louise style.  “We gotta find him.”

“Do you even know the first place to look?” Her patience is wearing thin but she tries; tries to understand where Mickey is coming from, tries to remember that this is all still new to him. She thinks of his face at the hospital when they went to visit Ian. She thinks of the panic and fear and hurt that she witnessed that day, and she reminds herself that that’s what he’s feeling even when he’s trying his damndest to hide it.

“No, do you?” He waits for a yes, directions to an answer.

“No. I have no idea. That’s what I’m saying. We can’t just drive around aimlessly looking for him.”

“Can’t you figure out how to get ahold of your mom or some shit?” He’s grasping at straws and he knows it. Fiona watches his eyes flick up to the rearview mirror, hoping to see affirmation on Lip or Debbie’s faces.

“Yeah, right,” Debbie scoffs.

“Apparently Ian’s the only one with full Monica access,” Lip chimes in. It’s the first thing he’s said since they left the army base, lacking his usual spark.

Fiona raises a quizzical eyebrow. “Did anyone know about that?” She doesn’t recall anything that would’ve indicated Ian was in touch with Monica, but truth be told she can’t say for sure that she would’ve noticed.

Lip and Debbie both shake their heads, as expected.

“Makes sense though, right?” Lip ventures. “Monica’s the only one who’s gonna tell him what he wants to hear.”

“Yeah? And what’s that?” Mickey asks defensively. He’ll say whatever he wants him to say. He can be whatever Ian needs him to be. He couldn’t before, but now he can. And he will.

“That he doesn’t need meds or doctors or help from anyone. She’ll tell him he’s not sick. She never thought she was. Bipolar is a blessing in the land of Monica.”

Mickey’s face falls in defeat. Lip’s right. He can’t give Ian that, no matter how much he wants to.

“Fuckin’ bitch,” he mutters under his breath.

Lip knows he’s right. There’s no doubt in his mind why Ian turned to Monica. Maybe it was inevitable. Maybe. But he can’t suppress the thought that they drove him straight into her arms.

_He’s been acting crazy… at least this past year._

The words echo in Lip’s head and he imagines what Ian felt when he heard them. A knife to the chest, most likely. Put there by someone he thought he could count on. Someone he thought would always be on his side.

_When they’re manic they can be destructive._

She was talking about Monica, Fiona rationalizes. Monica is destructive. Ian isn’t. Not yet. Not to her extent, at least. But she knows how it sounded, how she meant for it to sound. It was for Ian’s benefit. Fiona tells herself this over and over, but the guilt still sits heavily in her stomach.

_Compared to how he used to be? He’s different._

Debbie’s heart feels heavy. He is different. He’s sick. She didn’t lie. But she also didn’t get to tell Ian that she still loves him, different or not. She didn’t get to hug him and mention how proud she is of him for taking his pills and that he’s the strongest person she knows. Maybe if she had said all that he might be in the car with them right now.

_Unable to care for himself._

_Destructive._

_Different._

_Crazy._

Most importantly, he's their brother. The one they've always known. Somehow that message got lost in the crossfire.

“What’s he going to do without his meds?”

“He’ll be okay, Debs.” Fiona’s not sure why she even attempts to be reassuring anymore, but she can’t stop.

“He almost killed me with a baseball bat. What if he hurts someone else? Or himself?” She connects dots in her head that may not need to be connected, creates lines that zigzag from one place to another quickly and messily but nothing seems too implausible.

“He won’t,” Fiona offers, her voice confident. “We don’t even know how long he’s going to be gone for. Let’s not jump to conclusions.”

“Yeah, maybe he and Monica went out for brunch,” Lip says dryly. “I’m sure they’ll be back in time for dinner.”

“I’m just sayin’ it’s not gonna do us any good to worry ourselves over worst case scenarios.”

Lip sighs. “Maybe he’ll hook up with Ned again. We can check with him in a couple days, see if he’s heard from him.”

He winces when the toe of Debbie’s shoe meets the bone of his ankle. He looks up to meet her eyes and she glares at him, nodding subtly towards Mickey.

Lip doesn’t share in Debbie’s solicitude. “Or we can hope he’s living with Monica in a filthy, AIDS infested squalor again,” he quips. “Because that would be better.”

“He’s not gonna keep ignorin’ us.” Fiona is adamant about this. It won’t be like last time. “He’s gonna answer our calls sooner or later, and we’ll go from there.”

Mickey’s mouth is clamped shut, his jaw tense. Fiona notices his tight grip on the steering wheel, knuckles white, eyes never leaving the road. She sighs and looks out the window, tries to take interest in the buildings as they pass.

Everyone else remains silent, too. Debbie keeps her worries to herself, let’s them run rampant through her mind where Fiona’s words provide her no solace. Liam begins to doze off nuzzled into Lip’s side. He thought they were going to get to see Ian again. He can tell everyone is upset. He knows they probably won’t see Ian for a while. Lip rests his forehead against the cool window, remembering the place he and Debbie had ended up last time Ian went missing and trying not to imagine something even worse.

And Mickey keeps his hands glued to the wheel, resisting the urge to pick up his phone and call Ian again. He knows Ian is ignoring him. Ian saw all his missed calls, made the choice not to answer. Well, fuck him. When Mickey gets home, when the band of Gallaghers are out of earshot and he can finally fucking breathe, he’ll call Ian, and he’ll call him again, and again, and again. And if he doesn’t pick up then he’ll leave him a message, and another, and another, and another.

Mickey considers what he’ll say, what could make Ian come back. _I love you I miss you please Ian I’m sorry I’ll do better please everything’s going to be okay please please Ian I need you I fucking need you I’m sorry please fuck Ian._ None of it seems like enough, but it’s all he has.

It’s all he has and it’s not enough.

He sees Fiona look at him out of the corner of her eye, sees her look back to the road ahead without a word. Because there’s nothing she can say.

There’s nothing any of them can say. 

**Author's Note:**

> Big thanks to Shannon for her reassurance and suggestions!
> 
> I'm on tumblr @ backstreet-gurl.tumblr.com


End file.
